The voice on the machine stunned her, it was the first time in years she
had heard those tones.
Calm, efficient, measured like the practiced stride of an infantryman.
She actually began to tremble as the tone sounded and it took all her
will to summon the simple words that were designed to trap him. She kept
reminding herself how cunning he could be. She wanted to see him, wanted
to talk to him. As soon as possible. She wondered if the wily old mind
would smell a trap, and then she recalled their last face-to-face
meeting, and she realized that he would never see it coming. He would
never attribute deceit to the little girl who confided in him her most
precious information.
Even she had to give him that.
It was barely an hour later when the phone rang. As she reached out for
it, she wished to God she had never agreed to Frank’s request. Sitting
in a restaurant hatching a plan to catch a suspected murderer was quite
different from actually participating in a charade designed solely to
deliver your father to the authorities.
“Katie.” She sensed the slight break in the voice. A tinge of disbelief
blended in.
“Hello, Dad.” She was grateful that the words had come out on their own.
At that moment she seemed incapable of articulating the simplest
thought.
Her apartment was not good. He could understand that.
Too close, too personal. His place, she knew, would be unworkable for
obvious reasons. They could meet on neutral grounds, he suggested. Of
course they could. She wanted to talk, he certainly wanted to listen.
Desperately wanted to listen.
A time was reached, tomorrow, four o’clock, at a small cam near her
office. At that time of day it would be empty, quiet; they could take
their time. He would be there. She was sure nothing short of death would
keep him away.
She hung up and called Frank. She gave him the time and the place.
Listening to herself it finally dawned on her what she had just done.
She could feel everything suddenly giving way and she could not stop it.
She flung down the phone and burst into tears; so hard did her body
convulse that she slumped to the floor, every muscle twitching, her
moans filling the tiny apartment like helium into a balloon; it all
threatened to violently explode.
Frank had stayed on the phone a second longer and wished he hadn’t. He
yelled into the phone but she could not hear him; not that it would have
made a difference if she had. She was doing the right thing. She had
nothing to be ashamed about, nothing to feel guilty about. When he
finally gave up and cradled the receiver, his moment of euphoria at
growing ever close to his quarry was over like a flamed-out match.
So his question had been answered. She loved him still.
That thought for Lieutenant Seth Frank was troubling but controllable.
For Seth Frank, father of three, it made his eyes water and he suddenly
didn’t like his job very much anymore.
BURTON HUNG UP THE PHONE. DETEcrive FRANK HAD BEEN true to his promise
to let the agent in on the kill.
Minutes later Burton was in Russell’s office.
“I don’t want to know how you’re going to do it.” Russell looked
worried.
Burton smiled to himself. Getting squeamish, just like he predicted.
Wanted the job done, just didn’t want to get her pretty nails dirty.
“All you have to make sure you do is tell the President where it’s going
down. And then you make damn sure he tells Sullivan before the fact. He
has got to do that.”
Russell looked puzzled. “Why?”
“Let me worry about that. Just remember, do what I tell you.” He was
gone before Russell had a chance to explode at him.
“ARE THE POLICE SURE HE’S THE ONE?” THERE WAS A HINT of anxiousness in
the President’s voice as he looked up from his desk.
Russell, pacing the room, stopped to look at him. “Well, Alan, I’m
assuming that if he weren’t they wouldn’t be going to all the trouble to
arrest him.”
“They’ve made mistakes before, Gloria.”